


Harmony Oneshots and Drabbles

by DocRobot



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Drabbles, F/M, HMS Harmony Discord, oneshots
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-20
Updated: 2020-10-21
Packaged: 2021-03-09 00:16:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,226
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27125086
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DocRobot/pseuds/DocRobot
Summary: Drabbles, Oneshots, and anything else that fits in just a single chapter, all of them H/Hr
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Harry Potter
Comments: 2
Kudos: 20
Collections: HMS Harmony Discord Drabbles





	1. Just in Time

This is a drabble for the HMS Harmony discord's 200 word drabble Tuesday. It horribly fails at being 200 words.

**Prompt:** During the Battle of the Department of Mysteries, a timeturner was damaged and sent Harry and Hermione spinning through time. They find themselves back in the Department of Mysteries though, but their friends were gone, there were no Death Eaters in sight... but they are confronted with the shocked gaze of an older woman and man who everyone calls"Minister Granger-Potter" and "Mister Potter, head of the DMLE."  
 **Basically: HHr travel 20 years in the future and meet their future selves.**

* * *

**Just in Time**

* * *

Harry lashed his wand down, bellowing “Petrificus Totalus!” with all his might. The Death Eater in front of him snapped into stiffness, falling straight forward onto the floor with the sick crunch of a broken nose. He turned his gaze, catching Hermione smiling at him brilliantly for just a moment.

“Well done, Ha-”

She should never have turned away from the silenced Dolohov. She should never have let up her barrage of stunners. It spoke volumes about how unprepared they were, that she did. Dolohov snapped his wand down, purple flames sprouting from his wand like a whip, lashing straight across Hermione's chest. Harry's heart stopped, as he saw the shock and pain bloom in her eyes. She let out a tiny “Oh,” almost of surprise, and crumpled to the floor.

Harry didn't hear himself scream her name, didn't even realize he'd done it. He barely even heard Neville's howl of pain, as Dolohov kicked out, snapping through Neville's wand and breaking his nose. His entire world was consumed by Hermione's taut face, her pale skin, her motionless chest. He fell to his knees, grabbing her shoulder, his thoughts buzzing relentlessly in his head.

“ _Please don't let her be dead! Please, please, please don't! It's all my fault if she's dead, please, please...”_

Harry didn't notice Dolohov walking right up to where Harry knelt. Not until the Death Eater poked his wand right into Harry's forehead, tearing his gaze from Hermione. Dolohov had his mask off, a cruel, satisfied smirk on his face. Dolohov pointed to where Harry was still gripping the prophecy, then to himself, and finally to Hermione; his smirk widening to a vile, sharktooth grin. Harry could almost hear the exact words the Death Eater wanted to say. “Give me the orb, or you'll get the same.”

Rage, pure and bright, burned through Harry's shock. This man, this monster, was _satisfied_ at what he had done, he was _happy_ that Hermione was... he couldn't even let himself think it.

Harry struck out with his wand. He said no incantation, not even in his mind. He just had a sheer, aching desire to stop Dolohov, to hurt him, to wipe the evil smile off of his face. Dolohov's wand arm fell, severed from his body, and the Death Eater went flying back, smashing into a nearby desk. Paperwork and knickknacks went flying everywhere, clattering about the room. As if pulled, Harry's eyes were drawn to one glimmering, tumbling bauble.

A Time Turner. And it was flying right for him.

Harry grabbed Hermione's still form, pulling her desperately, trying to get them both away. He was far, far too late. The tiny hourglass shattered on the floor, inches away from them, and a wave of magic washed over them. Harry's body lurched, a sensation of spinning overcoming him. The world blurred into a confusion of light and noise around him. He grabbed onto Hermione desperately tight, refusing to let her go.

Everything went still, all at once, and Harry heard a surprised gasp from just behind him. Harry brandished his wand at the noise, throwing his body over Hermione as he twisted wildly to see the new threat.

A tall, thin man in white healer's robes was sitting on the edge of the very same desk Harry had just accidentally vandalized, his hands up in a placating gesture.

The man spoke up, his voice soothing, but firm. “Easy there. We're here to help.”

Harry's heart was racing, his knuckles white around his wand. His mind raced with one word, _“We?!”_ and he swept his gaze wildly around the room.

The man on the desk stood slowly, making no sudden movements, his hands still displayed. He stepped aside. A gasp was torn from Harry's chest, as he saw the person in the desk's chair.

She was a little taller, her face a little more refined, her hair less wild than he'd ever seen it, but the warmth of her eyes, the glint of thoughtfulness behind them, were something that he'd recognize anywhere. His wand fell in a clatter to the floor, a single word slipping from his lips, soft, unbelieving.

“Hermione?”

She smiled at him, wry and knowing and _alive._ He looked down to the Hermione in his arms, then back up.

Harry took in the sight of man in the Healer's robes properly for the first time. His hair was pitch black, shot through with just a few strands of silver, and long enough to weigh down its natural messiness a bit, allowing it to be swept back into a mane that was merely disorganized. His bright green eyes were locked on the body of the injured Hermione in his arms, taking her in analytically, but not dispassionately. The man's body was tense, ready to spring, and Harry knew exactly how badly the man wanted to help them. It was exactly how he felt.

“Please,” Harry said to what he now knew to be his older self, his voice croaking, his vision swimming with unshed tears. “Please save her.”

The doppelganger strode forward at last, kneeling down at their side. Harry felt his shoulder clasped in a strong grip, and looked into the blazing green of his own eyes. He finally felt himself relax, at the conviction in his future self's voice.

“Always.”

Harry sat on the cold stone floor of the little office, watching... Himeself work. He'd vanished a thin strip of Hermione's clothing, exposing the entirety of the angry red burn that now traced down her torso. With a single tap of the Healer's wand, the redness surrounding the wound began to recede, and the slow seep of blood stopped. Relief crashed into Harry like the Hogwarts Express as Hermione let out a harsh gasp, and she began to breathe once more. His future self began to fish potion bottles out of his pockets, far more than they could possibly hold without extension charms, and began carefully applying substance after substance to Hermione's skin, each one closing and fading the burn a little more.

Harry flinched slightly as a warm, gentle hand ran through his hair. He turned to take in the older Hermione, who was now standing behind him, watching his older self work. She leaned down and whispered softly in his ear.

“I know going to blame yourself for this, Harry. Don't.”

“But I- But it was me who insisted-”

“And it was me, who went anyway, even though I thought it was a trap.”

“I distracted y-”

“You did nothing more than win your fight. I was the one who took my eyes off the Death Eater in the middle of a _duel._ Hardly the kind of brilliance you should expect of me, is it?”

Harry gaped up at the now chuckling future Hermione.

“I... I still should have- Should have been... Better.”

She smiled down to him sadly, painfully. “We all should have. But at least we have a chance to fix that, now.”

Harry blinked, confused. “What do you mean?”

The older Hermione's smile relaxed into something more mischievous. “Well, according to the reports of my Unspeakables, we have a solid six hours before the temporal resonance cascade of the broken Time Turner sweeps you back to the moment it was broken again. That should be plenty of time for my husband to do his work, for you to get your head on straight again, for my Unspeakables to get that horcrux out of your head, and for _me_ to teach you some _truly_ useful little spells to try out on those Death Eaters, don't you think?”

Harry's head was spinning, he didn't even know where to start. “Wh- Husband?! Time, resonance- I, _Your_ Unspeakables, I- _What?!_ ”

Hermione's eyes glittered, her lips twitching. “Well of course they're my Unspeakables, I _am_ the Minister for Magic.”

Harry groaned and slumped down, overcome at last. He jolted up again when he felt a stinging jinx against his armpit, right where he'd never told _anybody_ he was really sensitive.  
  
“None of that now! Like I said, our time is limited. I want to make sure you can save Sirius properly.”

Harry's head snapped back to the future Hermione. “Sirius is really there?!”

She shook her head, “Not yet. For a given value of 'yet.' But he stormed in after your fool self, and is going to need you to pull him out again. So what do you say, care to learn a few spells to help with that?”

Hermione held out her hand for him, and Harry took it. His mind _still_ running over the word 'husband' as he felt the ring on her finger, even as she pulled him up.

He swayed a bit on unsteady legs, but didn't falter. He turned, and gave one last look to the younger Hermione. She was breathing easily now, the wound was little more than a thin, pink line. She was no longer pale and waxy, her face had relaxed from the rictus of pain. The gentle grip on his hand squeezed down for a moment.

“She's in good hands. He... _you_ , spent 20 years studying and preparing, just for this.”

And as he followed Hermione out of the office, he knew it was true.

It was exactly what he planned to do, after all.


	2. HP & D&D

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A random drabble I did a few weeks back that I decided should be on here too. Copied from the HMS Harmony Discord #drabbles channel, with a few tweaks and edits. originally posted 9/25/2020

@benolr64 over in the #writing room made an idle suggestion about Harry and the gang playing Dungeons and Dragons... It poked my brain in the funny place and I'm filing a restraining order. This is the lovechild of that fateful encounter.

\---------------------

HP & D&D:

“Cor Hermione, how are we supposed to play this messed-up game of wizard's chess if the pieces don't even move?”

Hermione rolled her eyes as she continued scribbling notes behind her Dungeon Master (or Mistress, as she insisted,) screen. “Honestly, Ron, you just pick them up and move them yourself!”

“And that makes me turn into this barber person?”

“Barbarian, Ron, and it's a role-playing game, you don't literally become your character, you just pretend.”

“Then what's the bloody point?!”

“Language!”

Harry sighed as he kept on leafing through the Player Manual, trying his absolute best to ignore his friends. He still had no idea what class he wanted to pick for himself or what race to be. He had enough trouble in his life being Just Harry without putting imaginary people into the mix. He looked up to Hermione plaintively.

“Couldn't you just please pick something for me, like you did for Ron?”

Hermione looked across the table to him firmly, though with a hint of a smile. “I really don't think you'd be very happy with that, Harry.”

Harry huffed, his temper rising a little. “And just why not?”

Hermione was unruffled, slipping into her Lecture voice. “Well, Harry, the Party already has the front line covered with Ron playing as a Barbarian.”

“I think I'm gonna name him Chudlor the Cannon,” Ron butted in.

Hermione blithely ignored that. “And you've already agreed to give me a DM-PC as a Cleric, because you all clearly can't be trusted to survive on your own.”

Harry smiled sheepishly, “Just like real life.” He chuckled when that actually got a pleased blush out of Hermione, throwing her out of her lecture for a few seconds before she cleared her throat and recovered.

“And Neville has graciously agreed to be the party's Rogue, so the specialist slot is taken.”

Neville quivered nervously from where he was trying to become one with his corner of the table. “S-sorry, if you wanted to do that yourself Harry.”

Harry waved it off “It's alright, Nev, I think you're the only one of us who's Gryff enough to play the rogue without getting infected with its inherent Slytherin nature.”

Neville smiled, just a little, and Harry felt his heart stirring when he saw the approving gleam in Hermione's eyes. Harry smiled back to her, feeling a little heat in his face, despite the fact he was no longer at all angry. “So if all those roles are filled, what's left for me?”

Hermione's face fell a bit “I really don't think you're going to like it.”

Harry shrugged “If it's what you think I should do, I'll be happy to do it.”

For some reason, Hermione started to hide behind her Dungeon Mistress screen. Harry could just see the barest scrap of her skin along her hairline, and it was burning scarlet. Her voice was quiet, but he could still hear the smile in it.

“Well, we... we have the tank, the rogue, and the cleric. So all we need is..”

“Yes, Hermione? What am I going to play?”

Hermione sighed. “You're the Wizard, Harry.”

She was right, he didn't particularly like that at all.


End file.
